


Two Years On

by ThisOldThing



Category: The Tunnel (TV)
Genre: F/F, One Shot, Season 2 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 21:06:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12044274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisOldThing/pseuds/ThisOldThing
Summary: Elise and Eryka's paths cross after two years apart.





	Two Years On

Yuri Gratchev tossed the folder onto the desk and it slid to a stop in front of a surprised Eryka Klein. “What is this?” she asked, her eyes moving to the folder as she stood, her hands reaching for it.

“Your next assignment.”

“Oh?” she asked, looking back to him, her hands now holding the folder. She looked back down as she flipped it open, her eyes quickly scanning the papers as her brow knit and her jaw set. “Do you think this is safe?” she asked, looking back up and meeting his eye. 

“I’m not sure,” he answered, in the way one might when asked whether to bring a jacket along to a picnic on a cool evening. 

“Then why send me?” she asked, closing the folder and holding it in one hand in front of her.

“Because after you gave them The Chemist and Arter Baturin I think they’ll listen to you.”

She tipped her chin up. “You think they trust me.”

“On the contrary, I know they don’t. But they know that you’re important to us.”

“So what I say will be important to them.” She paused. “When do I go?”

“Tonight.” She nodded and looked back to her desk, her eyes falling onto her open calendar. There was a long moment of quiet between them as he watched her.

“What?” she finally asked, looking back to him.

“You’ve been back to France since that whole mess.” She stayed silent, pretending to sort the new file with the others she had been working on prior to his arrival. “You never questioned whether those were safe.”

“No one knew I was there, those times,” she said.

“Hmm,” he said as he nodded once. “This time everyone will know.”

She nodded. 

He nodded to himself, absently. “The flights are booked, there should be no problems.”

“Good,” she said simply.

“Bon chance, Ms. Klein,” he said, exiting with a smirk. 

************************************************************************

Elise Wassermann sighed. She sat alone in her car, bored and impatient, overlooking the Euro tunnel exit with a pair of binoculars in hand. Her current case was long and tedious. There would be no arrests today, her research was just to establish a pattern. She watched as each car exited the Tunnel’s vehicle shuttle, the cars pulling slowly out into a line that snaked forward at a pedestrian’s pace. She put her binoculars to her face and began her work, her gaze going from car to car until she quietly gasped, the fifth car in. Eryka Klein sat behind the driver’s wheel, her hair pulled back into a ponytail as it had been the first time she’d seen her. Elise lowered the binoculars and then hastily picked them back up, looking again, confirming that what she saw was true. She dropped the binoculars to her lap and looked around in a panic before she spotted her phone on the seat next to her. She picked her phone up and she dialed. 

“Hello?” 

“There is a black car,” Elise said in French for the benefit of the listener, her eyes trained on the car as it moved toward the exit. “UK license plate 729D250 exiting the Euro Tunnel vehicle shuttle queue. Stop it.”

There was a pause. “Those are diplomatic plates.”

“Stop the car.”

“But–“

“Do it now,” Elise said, the phone gripped tightly in her hand.

“Yes, Commander Wassermann.”

Elise exhaled, shakily. “Take the driver to the Calais station and put her in a room for me. No on else is to speak with her, understood?”

“Yes, Commander Wassermann.”

Elise climbed into her car and with shaky hands, turned the key and headed to the station. 

************************************************************************

It was cold in the interview room. Interview rooms usually were. Eryka shifted in the padded metal seat, looking around the empty room. She shouldn’t have been surprised when the French police car pulled her over, yet she was. Of course the MI-5 agent had called his counterpart in France, and of course they would detain her as soon as she was free of the Tunnel. Was it still Olivier Pujol in charge of surveillance, the man she had shot? Eryka practiced the neutral expression on her face. She had diplomatic papers. This stop was illegal. All she needed to do was repeat that until she was released. She exhaled, as quietly and subtly as she could, and trained her eyes on the door, hoping, hoping that Olivier would walk through it sooner rather than later. 

************************************************************************

Elise paused before she opened the door, the metal doorknob cool in her hand. She took a deep breath and entered, and the words spoken from the woman in the chair across the room were in the air before Elise was fully in the room. 

“This is illegal.”

Elise stopped short, the door closing automatically behind her with a quiet click. She stared at the woman sitting in the chair. Eryka Klein didn’t look much different than the last time Elise had seen her and that fact made Elise’s stomach tighten. Elise recovered quickly, her voice even steel when she spoke. “That’s the first thing you say to me.”

Eryka looked chastened, her eyes never leaving Elise’s. Eryka hadn’t expected Elise to be the one to walk through the door, that much was plain from the pale look on her face. Eryka’s gaze darted to the mirror off to the side and Elise’s own gaze flicked to the mirror and back, Eryka’s gaze returning to her own. “There’s no one behind the glass,” Elise said, guessing correctly that was Eryka’s concern. She took two steps closer. “I had you stopped,” Elise continued. “No one else knows you’re here beyond the police officer who brought you in.”

Eryka swallowed hard. 

“Why are you in Calais?” Elise asked.

“Is this an interrogation?”

“Answer the question,” Elise said, cooly. 

Eryka looked to her hands and then back up. “I was in London and my flight to Paris had mechanical problems. The flight was cancelled. I am on my way to Paris now.”

“Why not take the train?” Elise asked.

“I wanted to drive.”

“Why?”

“Because I needed to think and a drive seemed the best time to do so.”

“What are you doing in France?”

“I have a meeting in Paris tomorrow morning.”

“And I’m expected to believe that you thought the best way to get there was by car, through the Tunnel, through Calais.”

“My plane had mechanical problems–“

“And the Eurostar leaves almost every hour, it could have gotten you to Paris in half the time it takes to drive.”

Eryka was quiet. “I needed to think–“

“Two years, and your first time back in France is through Calais,” Elise interrupted, and the look Eryka gave her in return, steady and passionate, shocked her.

“This is not my first time back to France in that time.”

Elise’s jaw dropped slightly; she hadn’t expected that. 

“I’ve been back to Calais since the last time you saw me,” Eryka said. 

“When were you in Calais?” Elise asked, taken aback. 

“Last year,” Eryka answered. “And the year before that I was allowed to go to the home I shared with Bresson to collect my personal items. A kindness for my cooperation.”

Elise’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Your–“ She stopped herself with a noise of incredulous disgust. 

Eryka was quiet for a long moment. “I saw you.” 

Elise looked up at that, her attention fully captured.

“Last year, when I was in Calais,” Eryka continued. “You were having a sandwich down by the port. I think you were working, you were with two men. You looked bored.”

“My job would seem boring to a spy.”

Eryka tipped her chin up slightly in defiance, the remark obviously stinging. 

“Why were you in Calais then?” Elise asked.

Eryka swallowed hard but remained silent. 

“Why do you have Russian diplomatic plates on your car?”

“Because I work for the Russian government in an official capacity. That is why this stop is illegal.”

Elise ignored the comment. “You have immunity?”

“Yes,” Eryka replied.

“How?” Elise responded. “You are a German citizen.”

“Not any more. I renounced my German citizenship.”

“When?” Elise asked.

“Two years ago,” Eryka answered.

“Why?”

“Payment for a favor,” Eryka replied. 

There was a long moment of silence. “So you are Russian now.”

“I am what keeps me safe,” Eryka replied. 

There was another long moment of silence. Elise flexed her jaw. “Why were you in Calais last year?”

Eryka said nothing, her eyes on Elise. 

Elise exhaled slowly, frustrated by the non-answer. 

“Did you have a reason to stop me?” Eryka asked and Elise looked up, surprised. “Other than that it was me in the car.”

Elise shifted her weight. “We have been watching the Tunnel for a case on human trafficking.”

“And you think I am involved?” Eryka answered, her brow knit in confusion.

“No,” Elise replied. 

Eryka nodded, understanding. Elise swallowed hard and again shifted her weight. 

“What now?” Eryka asked. “I haven’t done anything wrong–“

“Today,” Elise interrupted.

“And my diplomatic papers will make having me here difficult for you if questions are asked about your intentions.”

“Is that a threat?” Elise asked.

“No,” Eryka answered, her brow knit in a mixture of surprise and sadness. “I–“ she cut herself off and looked to her hands. She licked her lips and then looked back up and shook her head, seemingly at a loss for what to say. Eryka looked at Elise and Elise swallowed hard; she recognized that look. A quiet interest, with something else burning just below the surface. Eryka had looked at her like that on her birthday once upon a time. A connection between them, despite everything. “How are you?” Eryka finally asked.

“Fine,” Elise answered, her tone clipped, the question making her wary. 

Eryka nodded slightly. “Your eye–“

“There were no lasting effects from the injection.”

“Good,” Eryka said. 

There was a long silence. “Are you being monitored?” Elise asked.

“I don’t know,” Eryka answered honestly. “I was tailed in the UK. I assume your government will have someone keeping track of me soon enough.”

“It will be at Olivier Pujol’s direction.”

Eryka nodded. 

Elise nodded in reply. “I’ll call him. Let him know that you will be on your way again to Paris shortly.” She stood and made her way toward the door, stopping only at the sound of Eryka’s voice.

“Are you happy?”

Elise turned, stunned by the question. After a moment spent considering an answer she spoke. “I have a boyfriend.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eryka said, her voice tight with emotion. 

Elise looked away and then back. “Happiness is not important to me.” She turned and exited the interrogation room, the door clicking behind her, a few of her colleagues concerned looks following her as she made her way across the room to her office. 

*********************************************************************

Eryka gripped the steering wheel of the car. She needed to pull out of the police lot, to follow the consulate car’s navigation directions and make her way to the A16 so she could make her meeting tomorrow in Paris, but she couldn’t focus her eyes, couldn’t take a breath that was beyond the shallow attempts causing her to almost hyperventilate. She was for all intents and purposes, paralyzed. 

She had told herself she had been prepared. On the off chance that she would cross paths with Elise, if Olivier brought Elise to Paris as a tool to try to upend her, knock her off her game, but nothing had prepared Eryka for how intimate their meeting had been. A traffic stop. At Elise’s direction, a conversation in an interrogation room that put them within a few strides of each other– Eryka screwed up her eyes. 

Elise had been so close. Her hair down, still adorably unstyled and wild, her body still hidden beneath a large and comfortable sweater. Eryka again gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white. She remembered with sudden clarity the feel of Elise’s body. She hadn’t realized how much she had craved her in the last two years, but now it filled every cell in her body and she felt like she had been lit on fire.

Eryka opened her eyes and breathed out of her mouth, slow, as if exhaling a cigarette, and followed the breath with several of the same kind until her heart stopped hammering in her chest and her vision returned to normal. 

The worst had happened. She had come face to face with Elise again and had walked away, satisfied that she had made the right choice two years ago. Elise was safe. She was well, working in a job she was practically born to do. Eryka pushed the car’s ignition button. Setting her jaw, she shifted out of gear and pulled out of the carpark. 

*********************************************************************

Elise looked up from where she sat on the couch, vacantly staring at nothing, when the knock on the door filled her apartment with sound. She quickly and cautiously made her way across the room. Laurent never knocked, he had a key. “Who is it?” Elise asked, holding her breath for an answer. 

“It’s me,” came the quiet reply and Elise’s jaw dropped slightly before she pulled her lips into a tight line and opened the door. Eryka stood at the threshold meekly, her eyes red-rimmed, her lips plump and red. 

“How did you know I still lived here?” Elise asked.

“I didn’t, I guessed,” Eryka replied. “You don’t like change.” They stared at each other for a long moment. “Can I come in?” 

“No,” Elise answered.

“Why?” Eryka asked. 

“My boyfriend will be home soon. And you’re still a murderer.”

Eryka looked stung. “Those things didn’t stop you from taking me to bed before.”

“I wouldn’t have let you in the second time.”

Eryka nodded once. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself.”

“Why are you here?”

“For you,” Eryka said, her brow knitting.

“Why?” Elise asked. 

“Do you really need to ask me that?” Eryka answered, a wry laugh accompanying the words. 

Elise didn’t reply.

Eryka worked her jaw as she tried to think of the words that could explain her situation. She finally sighed, her shoulder leaning into the door jamb. “I can’t defect,” she said, her voice low, a near whisper. “I know too much. If I did they would kill me, and you, probably.” She looked up and met Elise’s eye. “I do what I do to stay safe. So that both of us are safe.”

“I didn’t ask for your protection.”

“No, I gave it freely because of my feelings for you.” Eryka exhaled. “I was so scared when Koba said The Chemist had you–“

“Don’t,” Elise said.

“I take no pleasure in death, but when they told me The Chemist was dead I was,” Eryka paused, her eyes looking to the ceiling as if the word she wanted would appear in thin air. “‘Relieved’ isn’t a strong enough word.” Eryka looked to Elise briefly before looking the ground. “The moments before I found out you were safe were the longest of my life.” She looked back up and met Elise’s gaze.

“I wouldn’t have been in the position to get hurt if it hadn’t been for you,” Elise said. “You were part of it all.”

“No,” Eryka said.

“You protected murderers, facilitated murder.”

“I did what I thought was right,” Eryka replied. 

“Right?” Elise’s brow furrowed. “The people on the plane were innocent. They had families, they were special to someone.”

Eryka nodded, emotional. “And would that someone, a single person, had thought the same about me when I was six and a plaything of Nazis and pedophiles at Colonia Dignidad.” Elise’s mouth dropped open in shock and Eryka hastily wiped the tears from her eyes. “I made choices that I thought would help people like me, like Rudi, and I live with those choices every day, hm?” She looked up, her eyes pleading. “But those choices don’t affect how I feel about you.” 

“They affect how I feel about you,” Elise said, disbelief writ large on her face. “Did you really think you could come here, could show up at my door and I would take you to bed?”

“No,” Eryka replied. Her face twisted as she tried to find the words. “You told me that before me you had never been in love.”

“You told me to try it, that it would be nice,” Elise said coldly.

Eryka nodded. “I sat in the car at the police station tonight after I was released and I–“ Eryka interrupted herself. “My hands were on the wheel, the car was on, the navigation pointing me to Paris and instead I came here. Knowing that it would probably be this, arguing in the hall, if you opened the door at all.” 

Elise swallowed hard to stay composed. 

“You were right,” Eryka said, meeting Elise’s eye. “It’s like a virus.”

“You need to go,” Elise said. “My boyfriend will be here any minute and I don’t want to have to explain who you are.”

Eryka nodded, stricken. “Do you regret it?” she asked. “Our time together?”

“Only when I think of it,” Elise replied. 

Eryka nodded. She moved to straighten herself when her head snapped to look to the stairwell, heavy footsteps quickly approaching on the steps, a man’s humming preceding him. Eryka stood straight and looked with panic to Elise, who was looking past her into the hallway. A boyishly handsome man emerged from around the corner, a grocery bag tucked into the crook of his arm, his backpack hanging over one shoulder. He smiled brightly when he saw Elise, his gaze turning curiously to Eryka. “Bonjour.”

“Bonjour,” Eryka said, the smile she forced to her lips almost grotesque. She turned back to Elise, who was looking sternly at her. Eryka’s smile melted from her face. “Goodbye.”

Elise nodded curtly. She stepped to the side, indicating that her boyfriend should enter and he did, stepping between them with a smile. 

“Au revoir,” he said over his shoulder to Eryka and Elise closed the door. 

Eryka stood alone for a beat. She could hear their voices, muffled by the door as they begin to talk, and the domesticity of it stung. She put her head down, sunk her hands deep into her coat pockets, and left. 

*********************************************************************

Laurent started to unload the groceries on the kitchen island. “Who was that?” he asked in French, looking from the door to Elise. 

“A former suspect in a case I worked,” Elise replied in French. She still stood by the door.

Laurent’s eyebrows rose. “Should she be here?”

“No.” Elise paused. “She was also my lover.”

He seemed taken aback for a moment before he continued unpacking the grocery bag. “Before or after she was your suspect?”

“After,” Elise said. There was a long pause before she spoke again. “She is the only person I have ever been in love with.”

“Oh,” he said. He stopped what he was doing and they stared at each other. 

“She is also a spy,” she said, obviously agitated, as she started to walk more fully into the apartment. 

“And you still love her?” he asked, turning slightly toward her. 

“No,” Elise said, stopped mid-stride, surprised. She thought for a moment. “Possibly.” She shook her head and started to walk again, muttering, “I don’t understand how love works.”

“Do you need to go after her?” he asked, turning more fully to follow her with his eyes, and Elise stopped, looking up sharply, again surprised by his line of questioning.

“No,” she said. 

They stared awkwardly for a long moment. “My ex Marie wasn’t good for me, but it didn’t stop me from going to her more than I should have.”

Elise looked to the food on the kitchen counter and then back to her boyfriend. “I don’t feel like having dinner tonight.”

“Okay,” he said.

“You can take it with you or leave it, I don’t care.” She looked to the food and then her boyfriend again before exiting to her bedroom. Laurant stood at the island for a long moment before carefully repacking his shopping bag. He picked the bag up, slid his backpack strap over his arm and left, his key locking the door behind him. 

*********************************************************************

Oliver Pujol looked up, confused, as Elise entered his office. “Elise…”

“Where is Eryka Klein?”

Olivier sat back in his chair, exhaling as he did. “Shut the door.”

Elise did as told and then returned to stand near his desk. 

He paused, regarding her for a long moment. “She’s at a hotel popular with the Russian consulate.”

“Which one?”

He shook his head. “Stopping her at the Tunnel was foolish,” he said. “You know what she is, who she works for, how these things work.”

Elise looked away.

“She might not be able to keep you safe forever if you keep going where you shouldn’t.”

She looked back to him. “She traded The Chemist and Arter Baturin for me. I deserve to know why.”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Olivier replied. “Do you really need her to say it? She saved your life. Be grateful and move on.”

“And if I can’t?”

Olivier exhaled again, frustrated. “When you saw her, did she tell you why she was in France?” He looked at her. 

“No,” Elise replied.

“Hm,” he grunted. He met Elise’s gaze. “She is bringing information from the Russians about Peloton.” He registered the startled look on her face and continued. “Maybe not Peloton exactly, but certainly what came after it. It’s all money,” Olivier said, obviously frustrated by the situation. “Peloton’s, or whatever came next’s, funds tangled with a Russian oligarch’s, complications ensued. MI-5 claims Ms. Klein’s visit is an olive branch.”

“Claims?” Elise repeated.

“Do you trust them after what happened two years ago?” Elise demurred and Olivier sighed. “Governments use businessmen to launder money, businessmen and the governments get rich and the money is used to fund horrible things that have us in this never-ending undeclared war.”

“It’s not a war,” Elise said. He looked to her. “It’s a series of engagements.”

Olivier paused. “You sound like her.”

“It’s what she said before she pulled a gun on me two years ago. Before she shot you.”

Olivier nodded his head, wryly. “I don’t say what I say about her because she shot me.”

“I know,” Elise replied.

“I say what I say because she is a spy with deep connections to dangerous people. And now, she’s under constant observation by my division, MI-5… If you see her your visit will lead to increased scrutiny.”

“I know,” Elise replied.

“It could impact your career, Elise,” he said, softer. 

Elise took a deep breath. “Are there surveillance devices in her hotel room?”

“Yes,” he said. 

“Cameras?”

“And microphones.”

She nodded and looked to the window. “May I have the address for the hotel.”

He paused. “Elise–“

“I will need her room number, as well,” she said looking back and meeting his eye.

He paused, his frame tense, before he leaned forward and quickly wrote on a sheet of paper. He folded it and held it out; Elise stepped forward and took it from his hand.

“Thank you,” she said, stepping back to where she stood originally. 

“Think about what you are doing,” he said. 

She nodded and left. 

*********************************************************************

The hotel room phone rang, shrill and loud, startling Eryka. She had her mobile, there was no reason for the room phone to ring. She placed her book on the end table and stood. She crossed the room and answered the phone with a stitch in her brow. “Hello.”

“Go to the window.”

Eryka’s blood ran cold, her face went white. “Elise?” Her question was met with a dial tone. She hung up the phone and crossed to the large window and pulled back the curtains, her eyes scanning the sidewalks below, until her gaze fell on Elise standing across the street, staring up at her. Elise looked away and took a step to her right, and Eryka panicked. She quickly rushed across the room and pulled her shoes on, only remembering at the last minute to grab the door key and a coat. She walked quickly down the empty hall, aware of a door opening around the corner unseen as she pulled on her jacket. She pressed the down button for the elevator and entered as soon as the doors opened. She pressed the lobby button and then pressed it again, the doors closing too slowly. Her mind raced as the elevator descended, the doors finally opening, her body brushing past them. She crossed the lobby, wondering if she was imagining the feeling of eyes on her as she moved. She burst out onto the sidewalk and took a deep breath, her eyes scanning until she saw Elise across the street. 

Eryka stared for a moment before stepping to the curb. She looked both ways and crossed the street quickly, the slow traffic allowing for her to thread between the slow moving cars to the other side. Elise turned away from her and walked to the edge of the sidewalk, her back to the hotel. Eryka stopped by her side and looked back to the hotel; the men who normally followed her hadn’t made their way out the doors. 

“What are you doing here?” Eryka asked, her voice low as she looked self-consciously to the side. 

Elise didn’t answer, and to Eryka it appeared as if she was questioning the decision herself. 

“Did Commander Pujol send you?” Eryka prompted and Elise answered quickly. 

“No. He advised me not to see you; he said it would damage my career.”

“Then don’t see me,” Eryka said, rocking back on her heel and taking a guarded step back. 

“I’ve hired a car to take us someplace,” Elise said, the words stopping Eryka’s retreat. 

Eryka looked in the direction of where Elise nodded; there was a nondescript gray sedan idling at the curb. Eryka looked back to Elise, evaluated her, yet before she could ask another question, Elise was brushing past her, was sliding into the backseat of the car, the back door still slightly ajar. Eryka swallowed hard and cast another quick look to the hotel, the men who were following her just now emerging onto the sidewalk, their heads turning side to side searching for her. Eryka took a quick breath, put her head down and made her way to the car, quickly slipping into the backseat and shutting the door.

“D’accord,” Elise said as the door closed, and the driver quickly pulled away from the curb.

“Where are we going?” Eryka asked, looking over to Elise as the car merged into traffic. Elise said nothing in reply, her gaze focused straight ahead. “Should I be frightened?”

Elise looked to Eryka and frowned. “Only if you are afraid to be alone with me.”

“I’m not,” Eryka replied. 

“Ok,” Elise said, looking back forward.

They drove for several minutes into Bois du Bologne until the driver pulled over to the side of the road.

“Ici?” the driver asked, unsure.

“Oui,” Elise replied. “Merci.” She turned to look at Eryka, her eyes then darting to the car door; Eryka answered by opening the door and exiting the vehicle, Elise right behind her. Elise shut the door and the driver drove off. Eryka looked around; they were along the side of the road in a wooded area of the park. She turned to look back at Elise.

“It’s a short walk.” Elise said, and she walked past Eryka onto a trail. 

Eryka quickly followed as Elise set off in a brisk walk, Eryka eventually catching up and walking shoulder-to-shoulder beside the slightly shorter woman. “Where are we?”

“Bois du Bologne. Lac Inférieur is a short distance that way,” Elise answered, nodding her head to the right and Eryka glanced to the side to orient herself before returning her eyes forward. She knew the lake, had walked around it on previous trips to Paris. 

“Where are we going?”

“A bench,” Elise replied. They walked for a few minutes in silence until Elise slowed, a wrought-iron and wood bench coming into view set amongst the ferns and trees alongside the trail. Elise sat, and Eryka sat as well, almost two feet between them. The area was quiet, save for a jogger who ran by. As soon as he was out of sight, Elise spoke.

“Why were you in France last year?” 

Eryka took in a deep breath. Of course Elise would get straight to the point. “I needed to see you.”

Elise didn’t reply.

“I couldn’t visit you in the hospital, though I wanted to,” Eryka continued. “I left France after handing over Arter Baturin because that was the arrangement that had been made for both you and me to end up safe. When I arrived at my destination my associates told me you were alive, and months later that you’d healed. I was so happy…” She trailed off. “Last year I received some news that made me question other things that I had been told, things that I had believed to have happened that didn’t. I began to worry that they had lied to me about you, and the thought that you hadn’t recovered, or even died…” She paused. “The idea ate at me until I could no longer ignore it.”

“Why go to Calais, though,” Elise asked.

“You have no social media, there was no way to know for sure.”

“You could have called the police station to see if I still worked there.”

Eryka shook her head. “It’s not the same.” She paused. “Yes, I could confirm that you were alive, that you were well enough to work, but… I needed to see you.”

Elise looked away. “Did it satisfy your curiosity? When you saw me by the port?”

Eryka softly shook her head. “No.”

Elise looked back and met Eryka’s eye, the two falling into a long look. “I think about you every day,” Elise said. She looked away. “Some nights as I fall asleep I imagine what it would have been like if you hadn’t turned out to be who you are.”

“I do the same,” Eryka replied, her eyes on Elise’s profile. “Only in my imagination you never find out. Something happens to Koba, to The Chemist, and I am free to leave that part of my life behind and be with you.”

“It would be a lie,” Elise replied. “I tried to tell myself that I could move on because the version of you that I had fallen in love with was incomplete, and now that I know the truth of what you did, what you believe, I would no longer be in love with you.” She briefly paused. “But I had sex with you after I knew. And when I was in the hospital I had dreams of you reading me the poem you marked…” she trailed off. 

“A virus,” Eryka murmured and Elise looked up, meeting her eye. Eryka pressed her lips together, her eyes filling with tears. “Is there someplace we can go?”

Elise’s brow furrowed in confusion and she looked at Eryka sharply. “Away?”

“For the night,” Eryka clarified, startled that Elise would even think she’d ask for more. 

“Your hotel room is bugged,” Elise replied.

Eryka nodded her head. She knew that. “Some place else,” she said.

Elise looked away, her hard stare on the treeline. 

“Is that no?” Eryka asked, her eyes never leaving Elise’s face. 

Elise’s only reply was to purse her lips.

“Does your boyfriend know you are here?” Eryka asked.

“That’s none of your business,” Elise answered. 

“Of course it isn’t, but I’m jealous, Elise,” Eryka replied. “And heartsick.” She closed half of the distance between them on the bench and bent her head close to Elise’s rigid frame so she could almost whisper and still be heard. “And I know that I said ‘one more night’ that night in your flat but I want so many more. Please. This can’t be the end.” 

“I won’t pretend with you,” Elise said, softly shaking her head, her gaze still avoiding. “You aren’t in Paris on holiday, you’re here on another one of your engagements, people will get hurt from the information you’ve brought.”

“It’s not like that,” Eryka said, her frame tense. “My role, it’s not what you think.”

“There is no path forward for you and me,” Elise said turning to face Eryka. “The only reason I came here is because I wanted to know why you drove through the Tunnel.”

“Is it?” Eryka asked, a rueful smile on her lips. The smile faded and her brow knit. “You know why I went to Calais last year. Why I returned this week.”

“No–“

“I love you, Elise,” Eryka replied. “I would leave my situation if I could. I would leave for you, if I could.”

Elise watched her for a long moment and then looked away, her eyes squinting as she fixed her vision in the distance. She buried her hands in her jacket pockets and sighed. “How did it start?”

“What?” Eryka asked. She was unnerved, undone, her face flush and eyes stung with unshed tears. 

“You being a spy.”

Eryka seemed hurt by the accusation in the word choice; she regarded Elise for a long moment before answering. “I left Chile when I was 17. Escaped, really. I moved to Hamburg where I lived with my grandmother until I started university. My life was normal, happy. And in my second year at university I fell in love with a girl from Moscow.” Elise turned her head and met Eryka’s eye. “She helped me see the reality of my upbringing, how the CIA had been involved in the Colony, everything.”

“She recruited you.”

“I don’t like to think of it that way,” Eryka said quietly. She was silent for a bit. “I followed her to St. Petersburg after graduation; we lived there for a few years before our relationship ended and I moved to France to take a job. It was in France, after I started working for Paul Bresson, that I was contacted by my current employers.”

“You could have said no.”

Eryka nodded. “It’s easy to think so, not having been through what I had endured as a child.” Erkya pressed her lips together, tears stinging her eyes. “They killed my brother. Can you imagine what you’d do, who you’d be, if you found out that Manon had been murdered?”

Elise swallowed hard. 

“My life has been a series of difficult decisions, all with painful consequences,” Eryka continued. “I could have ignored what I learned about Colonia Dignidad but I wanted justice for my brother, for my younger self, and the decisions I made, who I chose to work with, seemed the best way of going about it.”

“You could have trusted Paul Bresson, trusted the rule of law to bring those guilty of crimes to justice.”

“I did trust Paul,” Eryka said, her brow knitting. “But the rule of law is meaningless if the men who make laws are the ones doing the bad things.” Elise looked away and Eryka sighed, frustrated, before leaning back. “I don’t mean to try and convince you of my innocence.”

“Good, because you can’t.”

Eryka shook her head. “You are so stubborn, so fixed in your black and white view of the world.” Elise looked caught off guard and Eryka’s look softened. “And it is infuriating that those qualities make me love you more.” Eryka looked away and then down to the bench. She sighed and brought her head up, looking around at the the wood surrounding them. “I wonder how much of this conversation they’ve heard…” she said softly.

“None,” Elise answered. “I chose this location because of the lack of CCTV cameras.”

“They don’t need CCTV to listen,” Eryka said, a warning tone in her voice.

“My friend Karl is seeing to the men who were following you.”

Eryka looked surprised. 

“He can pass off being an idiot quite well,” Elise said. “He’s likely spilled a coffee on them by now. Had his dog, Brian, urinate on their shoes.”

Eryka opened her mouth to speak and then closed it, nothing to say. 

“I don’t want to be here,” Elise said abruptly. “I want to be sitting on my couch in my flat with my boyfriend watching some of the bad television shows he likes.”

Eryka stayed still. “Then why are you here?”

“Because I’m still in love with you,” Elise said. “And I’ve wondered every day, over the last two years, what happened to you.” She met Eryka’s eye. “I needed to see you again.”

Eryka nodded, understanding.

“My boyfriend doesn’t know I am here.”

“Oh,” Eryka answered. 

“If I go someplace with you I will jeopardize my career.”

Eryka nodded, again understanding. “And your career is who you are,” she said, sadly. 

Elise nodded sharply before looking to her lap. 

Eryka waited for a long moment before allowing her hand to creep forward slowly. She gently wrapped her hand around Elise’s forearm, and when Elise didn’t retract, she slid her hand down and into Elise’s pocket, her fingers seeking out Elise’s warm skin. She found Elise’s hand, wrapped her own around it and they sat for a moment, until Elise pulled their hands from the pocket and stood abruptly. “I think I should go.”

“No,” Eryka said. She stood and took a step closer but stopped when Elise stepped back. 

“No, I should go,” Elise repeated. She looked up and then looked away, guiltily. “Good luck,” she said, and with the briefest of glances, turned and walked away at a brisk pace.

It was shocking how fast she left. “Elise,” Eryka said. “Elise.” She started to follow, her face panicked when she bumped into someone tall emerging from a connecting trail and almost fell.

“Whoa, hey.” Two strong hands grasped her waist and then her arms, steading her. “Path’s big enough for two, eh.”

Eryka looked up, eyes watery and her jaw dropped at the sight of Karl Roebuck. 

“Ah, Ms. Klein.” He smiled. “Fancy seeing you back in France. Elise told me you were in England last week. No time for a quick cup of tea with me?”

“I have to go,” she said, attempting to sidestep him and he blocked her path. 

“No, you don’t.” 

She looked up and met his eye, her jaw set, her eyes fiery. “You have no right–“

“She’s walking away. Let her.” He reached forward and squeezed her shoulder. His casual air countered with the firm look in his eye; he wasn’t going to let her pass. He waited for a long moment before speaking. “Would you like me to walk you back to your hotel, Ms. Klein? The trails in this part of the Bois can get confusing.” He smiled.

“No,” she said, fuming. She looked beyond Karl’s tall frame and saw an empty walkway. Elise was gone. “I know which way to go.” She looked back up at him, turned heel and walked away.

The walk out of the park took over 30 minutes, and mercifully she hadn’t gotten lost, exiting the park not far from the Consulate. She was almost back to her hotel when she slipped her hand into her pocket and felt it. Car keys. She felt her confusion tense and twist her features. She pulled the keys from her pocket and reached into her other pocket; there was a note with a license plate number. She walked another block and saw it, sitting across the street from the restaurant on the corner near her hotel. It was Elise’s car. She approached the car cautiously. Karl must have slipped the keys and note into her pocket when he bumped in her. She unlocked the car and slid into the driver’s seat, shutting the door behind her. There were no notes, no other indication of what she was to do. And then it caught her eye, sitting on the floor of the passenger side. The book she gave Elise, now dog eared, of Pablo Naruda’s poetry. Eryka’s knit brow unwound, her features softening as she leaned over and picked up the book. She had inscribed it before giving it to Elise, a cautious thank you for their night together, a tentative hope for their future. Eryka opened the book, and written in new ink just beneath her own words, were coordinates. Eryka’s brow furrowed and she frowned. She turned on the car and started the SatNav, then input the coordinates. It was for a place about an hour’s drive north of Paris, beyond the suburban sprawl. 

Eryka leaned back in her seat and stared at the screen, her lips pursed in thought. She swiveled her head, looking out the car windows, and saw no one obviously watching her, none of the men she was used to seeing reading newspapers or listening to music, before she once again looked through the car. She looked through the glovebox, the seat pockets but found no other clue of what was expected of her. Her gaze returned to the SatNav screen and she made a decision. She gently placed the book on the passenger seat, pulled on her seatbelt and put the car into drive. She pulled away from the curb and followed the directions offered. 

********************************************************************* 

Eryka pulled off the main thoroughfare onto the bumpy, rural road, and then onto the long drive. She tensed as signs of other homes fell away. It felt like a trap, being lured to this secluded place in Elise’s car. But Elise loved Karl, and Karl was the only one who could have slipped the keys into her jacket; the only one Elise would have trusted to do so. Unless Karl meant to harm her, scare her, in some way unbeknownst to Elise, though Eryka hoped that he loved Elise too much to do that to the woman who had saved both of their lives. 

Eryka pulled up in front of a small home, the drive’s gravel crunching beneath the tires, and put the car in park. She waited a beat before killing the engine. The small house was sheltered in the woods, by all appearances without neighbors for at least a mile, maybe more. There was nothing special about it, it was neither well kept or ignored. Eryka craned her neck, looking to the home’s sides but there was nothing but slightly-weedy flower beds lining the structure. Eryka steeled herself, and picking up the book in her trembling hand, exited the car. 

She walked slowly to the front door. She knocked, but there was no reply. She tried the handle and it gave immediately, turning in her hand, the door creaking open before her tentative step into the house. 

“Hello?” 

“In the back.”

Eryka felt her whole frame relax at the sound of Elise’s voice. Relief, profound relief to hear confirmation that this diversion was of Elise’s making. Eryka closed the door behind her, locking it, and then walked down a narrow hallway until she entered a bedroom. Elise was standing along the far wall, the evening forest light from the nearby window catching her blonde hair and making it shine like spun gold. She had shed the jacket she wore in the park, and was now standing before Eryka dressed in a chunky black sweater and slim black jeans. 

They stood across from each other awkwardly, Elise with her arms folded across her chest, Eryka standing with the book in her hands. “What is this?” Eryka asked. 

The look on Elise’s face, the same look that she had before their first kiss, told Eryka everything, but she remained silent, waiting for Elise to speak. “A house. Karl rented it. His family is nearby on holiday.”

Eryka nodded once. “Why?” 

“I was worried you wouldn’t open the book.” Elise nodded to the book in Eryka’s hands; Eryka looked down and nodded. 

“I’m happy you kept it,” Eryka said, looking up. “I was vain, I wanted to see if you’d torn out my inscription.”

Elise nodded curtly.

“Elise–“

“I could lose my job if anyone besides Karl found out I was here. Or at the very least become a suspect in an intelligence investigation.”

Eryka swallowed hard; Elise looked scared. “It’s not worth it,” Eryka said, her heart sinking.

“No it’s probably not,” Elise agreed. “But if I don’t. If I don’t.” She stopped, unable to articulate the feelings so obviously roiling in her chest. 

Eryka nodded, understanding. “One more night,” she said, sadness piercing every word. 

Elise looked up, surprised and grateful in equal measure that she didn’t have to be the one to say it. They stared for a long moment, the overwhelming nature of the promise spoken seemingly freezing them from action. 

Eryka finally turned her head to the side and placed the book on a nearby dresser. Elise pulled her sweater over her head, her hands then going to the button on her jeans, and Elise shrugged out of her jacket, the keys to Elise’s car making a muffled, jingling sound as they hit the hardwood floor. Clothes layered in piles on the floor around their feet as they undressed. Unburdened, they moved toward each other and embraced, the soft mattress sinking beneath them as they moved to lay down together, tangled, on it’s surface.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who keeps this lovely ship going.


End file.
